


To whom did he belong?

by psychicmewhealer



Series: Vision angst [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Acute stress disorder, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hex!Vision is real, Hurt, Hurt Vision (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, I might explain later it'll be weird, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Mental Anguish, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Lives, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, POV Vision (Marvel), POV Wanda Maximoff, Past Rape/Non-con, Poor Vision (Marvel), Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Showers, THE NONCON IS NOT BETWEEN WANDA/VISION, Tags May Change, Timeline Shenanigans, Trauma, Triggers, Vision Feels (Marvel), WandaVision spoilers, Whump, helen cho is a good bro, wanda is a massive jerk for a sec then apologizes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicmewhealer/pseuds/psychicmewhealer
Summary: Vision can't stop showering.--Or: what if Hayward was even MORE evil than in canon
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Vision angst [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171382
Comments: 17
Kudos: 44





	To whom did he belong?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluffy_miracle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffy_miracle/gifts), [whoever wrote "didnt they want your blood"](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=whoever+wrote+%22didnt+they+want+your+blood%22).



> TW's are all in tags. Please check those before you read. Safety is paramount!!
> 
>  **If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts:**  
>  You can call 1-800-273-8255 in the US | 1.833.456.4566 in Canada (not Quebec) | 1.866.277.3553 in Quebec | 116-123 in UK & Ireland | text 45645 from 4pm - Midnight ET in Canada
> 
>  **If you are going through a crisis:**  
>  You can text HOME to 741741 (in the US & Canada), 85258 (in the UK), or 50808 (in Ireland)
> 
> Please stay safe!!! You are loved
> 
> * * *
> 
> I'm gifting this to two people:  
> When I was still in the process of thinking about writing this fic, I came across [didnt they want your blood?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093448) which is an introspective look at Jasmine's trauma relating to Jafar. It's artfully crafted and very realistically grounded, not glorifying anything, just ugly angst. So, so good.  
> And when I was about to finish this I read the second fic in the #metoo series from [fluffy_miracle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffy_miracle) called [_recovery_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727526) which emotionally took me places, and I had to send it extra love. I just read [the whole series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/947562) right after I published the fic. Very short, very sweet, 10/10.  
> So yeah, double gift this time around. I recommend both of these.

Wanda was expecting a "good morning" at least.

But when the 6:00 alarm rang, Vision said nothing. He sprinted from the bed, running the long way around Wanda into the restroom. Wanda heard the shower turn on and snoozed the alarm. She couldn't get up; she blamed it on the clonazepam.

The alarm went off again at 8:00. Wanda flopped her arm till it hit her phone on her nightstand. She picked it up.

Her heart stopped. An Avengers meeting was scheduled for 9:00. She was going to miss it if she didn't scram.

Wanda rolled out of her blanket. She snatched the folded denim cardigan, jeans, and tank top from atop her wooden dresser. Professional getup was not a priority. She set her hand on the restroom door, starting to open it. But as her brain began to awaken, she noticed the sound of water jettisoning from the other side of the door.

"Vis? You don't normally take this long to shower."

She let go of the doorknob. "I'm running late for a meeting."

No response.

She rested her head on the door. "Is this about..."

Wanda had taken Vision from the SWORD lab only a couple days prior. Last night was the first since then that they had slept together. If this was what she thought, she'd be shocked, but not surprised.

"Is this about Hayward?"

Vision's amygdala was synthetic. Synthetic didn't mean better, but synthetic neurons were usually more reliable than organic ones. But when he heard that name, his amygdala must have misfired. A weight fell on his chest, a jolt went down his spine, and his foot squeaked, scraping the shower tile. He halfway fell into the corner of the shower.

He didn't fully remember that period; it came in patches. An isolated moment here, a skin receptor firing there. He wasn't sure if the patchiness was intentional. Well, he was, but he didn't want to believe it. But if he barely remembered, then why did every spot on his body feel wrong, like it wasn't supposed to be there, or tainted with dust mites, filthy with the man's touch?

The shower stayed on.

"You want me to stay and talk about it?"

He didn't.

"I'm calling Fury."

Wanda's presence was making his body shrink and his hands shake and sweat _sweat sweat_ trickle down his forehead. But that word, "no", was trapped behind his lips, and something screeched in the back of his mind that _no means nothing when you belong to someone._ So he stayed silent.

"Fury?"

He let the shower overtake his wife's voice.

"...not coming...Avengers..."

Letting it blast onto his impure skin.

"Vision...Hayward situation..."

That name again. His body convulsed. He held onto the grout in the tile wall with his fingernails.

"Well...not coming..." _beep-boop._

"He didn't just want your body as a weapon, did he?"

Vision turned the water scalding.

Wanda sat at the door. She wanted Vision to verbalize it, but she hadn't read all those self-help books after Pietro died to never apply them. She still said it like a script. "You don't have to talk if you don't want. Take it at your own pace." In the same breath: "Also, I killed him. Ripped out his throat." Had she known this part, she'd have drowned him in his own blood first.

Wanda and Vision. "Aren't we a fine pair?" he'd aptly declared. Their relationship was baked pies and chocolate strawberries, in which the only miscommunication between them was a heart drawn on a calendar. Oh, and the whole mind control thing, though that was technically an accident.

Of course Hayward tried stealing that life from her.

"What was he thinking? Taking you from me? What a sick, sick man." Red glinted in her fingertips. "He took my life and then he took my husband."

Her skull rattled. "He should have known..." her Sokovian accent thickened... "he should have known you belong to me."

_He was half real. The lights flickered off. "You belong to me now," and the Director's eyes fluttered around the room, looking for light reflecting off video cameras. The red and blue diodes refracted around the lab. Everything smelled of molten metal and antiseptic. He removed his gloves and held onto a thick wire plugged into the wall._

_The man tugged the wire. A rush of fatigue fell into him. His memory was in and out after. Hours of warm, sweaty hands and suffocation. A headache and a cold sweat._

_"I do, Director."_

_"Good."_

Shuddering, he elicited a bubbling scream.

_"Get out!"_

What did he do? Why did he lash out? He was in the shower, which wasn't inherently dangerous. So what turned him into an animal? He had to call someone. Someone to whom he did not belong. An acquaintance who knew ―

"Dr. Cho?"

"Hi, Vision, how have you been?"

"I need to meet with you as soon as possible."

"Oh. This is serious. We could do it in my l―"

"No, not the laboratory." He exhaled it before he could think of what it meant. But he was right, not the laboratory. Thinking about being in one made him short of breath. "Come to my house. I'll send you my address and some keys."

"That makes it a bit harder on my schedule. You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I'll work on it."

His throat jumped to the back of his mouth.

A few minutes later ― "I'll be at your place in an hour. Sounds good?"

"See you then."

He sharply exhaled and let the hot water hose down his skin.

A knock came from the restroom door.

Vision amplified his voice to reach out of the shower. "Don't come in."

Dr. Cho shouted across the door, cutting through the shower's blasting. "Wasn't planning on it. I've been foraging the house for you, but I won't break and enter the shower."

Guilt stabbed his chest. Dr. Cho had come at a moment's notice, and here he was, immobilized in his shower. "Many apologies."

"Don't worry about it. You wanted me specifically, so this must be about something only I know. Probably about your body, since I made it."

His mind blocked as though he was trying to bite through his finger. He wouldn't talk about it. He couldn't.

"There's something wrong with me."

"Care to explain?"

"I shouted at my wife."

"You wouldn't call me because of that. Something else is going on."

Bite his finger he did.

"Why do I feel this way?"

"Feel like what?"

He heated up the shower, spitting the words, "Warmth. Sweat."

"Unclean?"

He nodded. Remembering she wasn't in the room, he said, "yes."

"You're asking why you feel unclean?"

"Why do I feel unclean if I don't remember most of it?"

"Most of what?"

Must he explain? The breaking and entering, the slight cutting off of his power supply, spiders crawling up his metal flesh? The rending of his body only to find ―

"I didn't even have what he wanted."

"A member?"

The shower grew hotter.

"Your brain is virtually human. The only differences are in the networking capacity and the materials. Nothing is wrong with you. You're undergoing textbook acute symptoms of surviving sexual assault. Your lack of cohesive memory or genitalia doesn't make the trauma less real. Also, I'm hearing beeping. Is the shower ―"

"I'm fine."

"You'll get first degree burns."

He welcomed the scalding. Feeling his skin rip off was better than being contaminated. He didn't feel clean yet, but if it was hotter ―

"This is a safety hazard. You need to get out."

"I'm not getting out."

"I would never force you to do something you don't want to do. But you will have to turn off the shower before the burns start."

 _No means nothing when you belong to someone_ , but Dr. Cho was different. He never met her; he never belonged to her. So it meant something when he ground his teeth and said, "I'm. Not. Getting. Out."

"Fine. Then I'll cut off the water supply. Three..."

No.

"Two..."

His chest raced.

"One..."

He huddled in the corner where he fell.

Steaming water no longer cleaned his skin. His teeth chattered. He was cold and alone. In the absence of the scalding and tickling burns, he felt _him_.

A weighted blanket. A cup of tea for Dr. Cho. The smell of paprika and lavender. The Eagles vinyl in the background. Everything screamed _safe safe safe_ _,_ but his synthetic amygdala was unconvinced. He tousled around his rocking chair as though his body's existence was a crime against itself. He wanted to thank Dr. Cho, but speaking took too much out of him.

"I'd order you takeout but, y'know." Dr. Cho sat on the floral couch across from the rocking chair, sipping her tea.

Vision's question lingered. He bit his lip. But he knew he couldn't ask anyone else. He had never...met Dr. Cho until today. Maybe she didn't know, but she could be objective.

"Dr. Cho, to whom do I belong?"

He asked in all seriousness, but she looked at him like he was joking.

In a detached tone, he listed, "First, it was Mr. Stark, then Ultron, then Wanda, then Thanos, and then Wanda again. But _he_ was the first to say. And he was the first one to...make it clear."

But his amygdala, his forsaken synthetic amygdala, decided to ruin it. "Now, he's dead," Vision shook, "and Wanda told me I belong to her, but the Director stole my body and I can't get it back, and I don't know ―" his tone reached a crescendo and a tremble ― "to whom do I belong?"

Dr. Cho scrambled for a response. "You don't belong to anyone."

"My body doesn't even belong to me!" He hated tears, the releasing of endorphins and clearing of his eyes, when all they did was remind him of his body, a shell covered in dust and sweaty hands. Tears barraged out of his ducts to spite him.

"It might feel like that right now," Dr. Cho managed. "Not forever."

Vision whistled an exhale and tightened the blanket around him.

Dr. Cho paced around the kitchen and gathered ingredients for a stir fry when Vision heard a ringing in his ear. _Wanda_. If he didn't pick up, he could hear what would happen ― "you belong to me, Vision," _you belong to me now,_ so he accepted the call and apologized for the morning.

"Vision?"

"I shouldn't have shouted you down. Something is wrong with me."

"No, _I'm_ sorry. For earlier. I didn't mean what I said. Well, I did at the time, but not anymore."

Vision rested his head on the back of the rocking chair, pulling his blanket closer.

"I was being inconsiderate and I triggered you. I don't have an excuse. What he did, what you went through, it was wrong, not because we're married. I'm sorry I failed to acknowledged that."

"No, it's fine."

"It's not. I was possessive and selfish. If you're going to heal, I'll have to support you."

She smacked her lips. Vision jumped. "I have experience, you know," Wanda continued. "Belonging to someone. Being HYDRA's lab rat and all that. Not to make comparisons. Just...I don't want anyone to feel like that. You don't belong to me, not to anyone. I hope you forgive me."

He didn't believe it. But it was nice that she said that. It was something.

Vision slept with Billy and Tommy that night in a spare air mattress. They welcomed the surprise and didn't ask why.

He awoke the next afternoon to scores of text messages.

With his permission, Wanda told the Avengers what went down in the SWORD base the days before she shut down the Hex and rescued him. He figured they'd find out somehow, and he didn't want to be the one to tell.

Most of his teammates sent platitudes ― "Call me if you need anything"s, "Sending love your way"s ― which he knew were sent out of love, but they were empty comfort. Mr. Wilson sent articles on grounding techniques from the VA. Colonel Rhodes offered flowers. But nothing helped when he was holed up in a disgusting, contaminated body, when his house was safe but everything still felt like a danger, all because of touch from a man he barely remembered.

The only messages that meant anything came from Ms. Romanov.

> **From: Natasha Romanov**
> 
> the others don’t get it do they
> 
> it can be hard when no one talks abt how to deal
> 
> none of it’s “your fault”
> 
> you are not “weak” for being out of commission
> 
> don’t let anyone
> 
> ANYONE
> 
> including yourself
> 
> say it wasn’t a “big deal”
> 
> if anyone even thinks otherwise i will burn them 💕
> 
> h-word can burn in h-word
> 
> check your door, i got u a bubble bath
> 
> oooo idea
> 
> you should try yoga it’s good
> 
> helps you get in touch w your body without being ballet
> 
> only if you want ofc
> 
> want to watch a movie tonight?
> 
> smth to take your mind off it can help
> 
> i found a journal at a thrift store that reminded me of you want me to get it
> 
> joan is gonna be so excited to see her first robot client
> 
> is this bad? am i bad?
> 
> not me projecting 😞

For the granule of his soul capable of feeling anything but lost, movie night with Ms. Romanov was a possibility. He'd have to wait a minute to answer her request. Only if the movie was insipid.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for more suffering. This fic is on kinda-hiatus so it'll take a couple months before I update, but I'm not abandoning it. I just have to catch up on my other WIPs first lol.
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Say hi on Tumblr, if you want!](https://psychicmewhealer.tumblr.com)
> 
> * * *
> 
> **If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts:**  
>  You can call 1-800-273-8255 in the US | 1.833.456.4566 in Canada (not Quebec) | 1.866.277.3553 in Quebec | 116-123 in UK & Ireland | text 45645 from 4pm - Midnight ET in Canada
> 
>  **If you are going through a crisis:**  
>  You can text HOME to 741741 (in the US & Canada), 85258 (in the UK), or 50808 (in Ireland)
> 
> Please stay safe!!! You are loved
> 
> * * *
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
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